In my head, there is a room. In this room, there is nothing but a single chair and a door—always locked—and no matter what I do, I can never reach the handle. This room has been with me since I was a child. A place I created to mourn and make sense of young traumas. A childhood trap.

As a creator and even in my life, vulnerability has been something I’ve found myself struggling with lately. I want so desperately to give of myself freely and unabashedly to the world, but putting my guard down to do that can sometimes be overwhelming, if not terrifying. To me, it means opening up my whole self for judgement, for ridicule, for someone else to view me the way I often times have viewed myself—which hasn’t always been the most flattering. Sometimes, I even fear praise. Your added attention just reminds me that I am naked and exposed. Luckily, I am now journeying back to myself. I am learning that vulnerability is not about opening ourselves up to judgement, but to possibility.

Vulnerability invites courage into our lives. It requires surrender and reinforces our faith. It’s found in the moments between closed eyes and open hearts. It lives in the contemplation of ideas that challenge our identities, who we think we are, and what we believe we represent. Vulnerability means stepping outside of your comfortable mental walls, exposed somehow, to the great unknown.

Our purpose is not future decision, a tenure goal or vision we created to convince ourselves that we are only worthy if we work hard enough for it. It is none of that. Our purpose is simply to exist in love. We can shift the quality of our existence and the meaning of our existing as we navigate each season of our life, but it will always remain the same. LOVE.

When I hear the word “celebrate” there’s a few things that come to mind; my mother making pancakes before work when I was a child because I did well on an exam, my father secretly telling my aunts about a small accomplishment (at least small to me) because he’s proud, or my best friend sharing a post on Facebook about one of my projects because she’s the best ride or die in the world. Celebration to me means love. Love for myself and what I’ve done or love for someone else and how proud I am to witness their work.

Contemporary philosopher, theorist, and writer bell hooks says in All About Love: New Visions that "[t]he word ‘love’ is most often defined as a noun, yet...we would all love better if we used it as a verb.” I’m really interested in hearing about how real-life Black couples that I’m blessed to know would describe love as they practice it, and as they have experienced it, with their partner.